Lord of the Iron Mountains(Closed)

[WeaverofWorlds]

To many, the rocky and treacherous terrain of the Iron Mountains, and to a lesser extent its surroundings, were an unwelcome environment. Compared to the rolling hills, lush forests and tranquil farmlands of the Southlands, anywhere else might seem uninviting. As it was, the brisk autumn chill that bit at travelers along the road to the only city that mattered in the region would no doubt make anyone not born and raised here despise it all the more. For a ranger of the Iron Lord, however, it was home, and a twitch of satisfaction could be seen on his lips even as he ranged ahead of the those he escorted. Truthfully, he was only really escorting one, but they had managed to find passage with a small caravan headed to their destination, which was a welcome respite. A woman from the Southlands was ill suited to traveling in conditions such as this. He'd expected to have returned far sooner, but the King, in his infinite wisdom, had put off selecting someone for far longer than the ranger would have liked. Clearly, the south had little concern for the affairs of the north.

The ranger quickly shook the thoughts from his head, however, as he crested a ridge. Now, his eyes shone with joy and a smile found its way to his lips. The sight before his was the only thing that could have truly made him feel at home. The great fortress-city had long had its name lost to time, except perhaps from the memories of the Iron Lord himself, but no other sight could be grander to the ranger. Spires of stone and metal rose high into the air, atop each ballistas and catapults manned without fail around the clock. The great wall could just be seen passed them, ever defiant towards any that would attempt to assault the city. The ranger knew within toiled miners and craftsmen, all working great forges and bringing up ever more metal, all to repair the arms and armor of the soldiers that stood watch, ever vigilant in their duties. Even from this far out, the ring of steel could be heard, a combination of the pounding of blacksmiths and the constant training of the soldiers who were not otherwise occupied. Not even a year gone, and the ranger had missed this sight far more than any other. Even the capital, with its white marble buildings and cultured atmosphere, could not compare in his eyes.

And all around it, surrounding it on almost all sides and extending off as far as the eye could see, were the Iron Mountains. Impassable, and impossibly high, it was said by all who lived here that no man had ever reached the peak of its tallest, the mountain in question, the great Sky's Edge, jutting ever upwards and seemingly disappearing into the clouds above. Forests of evergreens, so different from the multitudes of more lush and colorful greenery in the south, covered the more untamed regions of this harsh place, and it was the same forests that provided for the ever hungry war machine that was the fortress-city. Feral wildlife still stalked the region as well, all to ready to descend upon unwary travelers. It was just as well the caravan had encountered little of that on this journey, as that would have delayed them even further.

Turning back towards the caravan, the ranger spied the woman he had brought back with him. For a moment he considered not drawing her attention to the sight that would be before her as the caravan crested the ridge, but in the end, he supposed it would be good for her to see it sooner rather than later. After all, she would be the Iron Lady soon, and would be spending likely her entire life here.

"My lady. There... the Fortress-City... your new home."

 

[haremfaery]

The lady looked out of her wagon at the bleak scene. She had never known there were so many shades of gray. Her new home. Her body might live here till the end of her days, but her heart would remain in the Southlands. Forever.

Lady Woodmere, Katherine informally, was a most unusual choice to become the Iron Lord's bride. A highborn girl was always chosen. Unmarried and a virgin, all eligible girls were presented to the King and Council of the Southlands for a choice to be made. Usually it was the youngest daughter of some minor noble without the clout to have his child passed by. Or a noble with some other reason who wished to divest himself of a troublesome offspring. Whatever, it was a choice of a girl least likely to be missed. However, some 17 years before the Rosy Fever had struck. Many died particularly the old and the young. So many children lost.

When word came that the Iron Lord required a bride, the nobles went into a flurry of apprehension. There was no roster eligible girls to choose from. The few there were had only just achieved their menses. The nobles thought it unconscionable to send a child to be the bride of such a man. If he were a man at all. Rumors of the Iron Lord abounded.

There was only one noble with a daughter old enough, still a virgin, who could be the bride. She was young, but not quite so young. Not yet sixteen, but better than sending a twelve-year-old. But Lord Riverill refused.

The nobles railed at him. The King made threats. The only way the girl would not be sent was if she were no longer a noble. Lands, holdings, all monies, would be forfeit. Lord Riverill and his family, their retainers and serfs, all would be paupers. His lands divided among the other nobles. He asked for time to come to grips with losing his daughter.

When Katherine heard, she went to the King. She would go in place of her younger sister. She would not allow her sister to go nor see her family's estates torn from them.

The King called the nobles together to discuss Katherine's offer.

"She is no virgin!"

"But she is of most noble birth--"

"And a proper age."

"She was married!"

"Her husband is dead. A widow may marry again."

"What if the Iron King refuses to accept her?"

"Then we send her sister and beg his forgiveness."

The King had great reason to accept Katherine's offer. Her husband's lands would go back to the crown to do with as he liked.

Lord Woodmere had died hunting boar not six months past. Katherine was still mourning her loss. It had been more than an arranged marriage. Of her suitors, Woodmere--Henry, had made an impression. It was love at first sight. They had barely come to know one another when he died.

As a childless widow, she had few choices open to her. It was not a difficult decision to offer herself in place of her sister.

Katherine wiped away tears and straightened her back. She would not greet her new husband blubbering like a child.

She tucked a stray lock of her red-gold hair behind her ear as she leaned out to look again. It was so unlike the Southlands. She tried to find something of beauty in what she was seeing, but all was cold and forbidding. The ranger seemed happy to be home. She tried to picture him in a house with a warm hearth, a pretty wife, and a few plump children, but it was for nought. All blackened with smoke from the forges. How could children thrive in such a place?

"Thank you." She spoke to the ranger. "It looks . . . formidable."

The woman was as far from an Iron Lady as any might be with her hair the color of a sunbeam and eyes blue as the summer sky. The ranger silently wished her well.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

The ranger said nothing, his well wishes silent. There was little else to say. He'd been there, ever silent and watchful, as the King and his court had debated and argued. He'd seen her give her offer, seen the King accept it. Knew his Lord and master would not necessarily be... pleased. But then, while he might not be pleased, the Iron Lord would not contradict his King. Not without reason, at least. The ranger set off again, making to scout ahead of the caravan once more, and draw ever closer to home. At the pace they were going, it would not be long before they were within the city proper.

"A half-day, my lady, and we shall reach the fortress-city."

And, unspoken but hanging in the air nonetheless, her new husband-to-be.

---------------------​

The audience hall, or so it was called, was little more than a room with a slightly fancier chair in it. Certainly, it had seen, in its many centuries of service, a number of very highly placed nobles and even, on occasion, a King. But still, as it always did, it lacked the normal gaudiness of a more... cultured... noble's halls. No banners or heraldry hung from the walls. No greats works of art or brilliant trophies brightened the room. No music filled the empty air with sweet notes of song. All were considered unnecessary by the Iron Lord, so focused as he was on keeping his lands, and the fortress-city itself, from being caught unaware by those who would see it destroyed. His long, long life had seen to the death of any desires for materialistic and transient things. His dress spoke of that well enough, more regal attire discarded in favor of well worn soldier's wear, all functional leather and warm furs to fight off the autumn chill.

Iron Lord, they called him, so far in the south. Iron Lord wasn't even a true title. He was a lord, same as any other noble lineage, and yet somehow, he was claimed to be something... special. Even his own people called him such, so long had it been since his name was spoken aloud. To those few who sat on his council, the joke was revealed, for to them he was simply Lord Ironguard. Unimaginative, perhaps, but then, he was born in a time when such things were still common, taking the name of your position. At least the name still rang true. To even fewer, a mere handful at the best of times, he was Asmund, he of the black hair and steel grey eyes. As always, his hair was cut short, appearing as if hacked at with a knife, as indeed it had been. The barest traces of facial hair was also present, suggesting a shave each morning. There was little needed for presentation when the only ones to see you were soldiers. His own height, only reaching a bare six feet, made him perhaps average among his fellow northerners, and he was by no means the most muscled of his fellows either. But all the same he was a soldier and a leader, and it showed in his bearing. Not once had he ever allowed his men to fight without their Lord standing with them, blade and shield standing shoulder to shoulder with them.

Even now, he was focused on the task of organizing men and supplies for the coming winter. He was, as his advisers had told him, supposed to be sitting patiently upon his throne, brooding or some such nonsense and wasting the day away until his ranger and his bride arrived. Instead, he'd had a table brought in, reports and lists scattered across it, men scurrying around him as he gave orders for this task or that to be done. Tallying supplies and manpower, preparing storerooms and armories, reading through scout reports and dealing with minor issues across his domain. It was like this, him standing with his back to the entryway, that his ranger and bride found him.

It was the doors creaking, heavy and ponderous as they were, that alerted him to their presence, before the herald kindly announced the presence of a ranger(he didn't quite catch the name) and one Lady Katherine Woodmere, nee Riverill. Asmund felt his muscles tense at the mention of a maiden name. Already wed... widowed then, most likely. And that meant, almost certainly, with child. At the very least not a virgin. The King, it seemed, had decided ancient pacts and customs could be ignored as needed. Asmund felt his anger rise, but he forced it back down. It would do him little good to be angry now, not least of all with someone who doubtlessly had little to do with the King's blatant disregard for his ancestral oaths. With a final soft spoken command to one of the soldiers at the table, informing him to gather the men available for parade inspection, he addressed the new arrivals, his back still to them, prioritizing the information that required more immediate attention.

"Ranger. Report."

The man in question dropped to one knee, quickly relaying everything he'd seen of the Southlands. The soldiers, and he hesitated to call them such, were soft and more interested in parading about in finery than practicing the art of war. The nobles had grown lax within their domains and holdings, eager to partake but ill equipped should they be attacked. All were content to play games upon horseback, or attend balls of little use beyond political machinations. Little concern was given to the Iron Mountains, or its constant vigil. Even the King seemed content to concern himself with little more than his own concerns.

Asmund was silent, mulling over the report. Certainly, the messenger had been sent to collect a bride, but that didn't mean the man was blind, or that he couldn't watch and listen. Still, he'd brought nothing new. It had been this way for quite a long time. On the one hand, it was discouraging, to hear the Southlands had fallen so low. He remembered a time when they'd fought as fiercely as any soldier of the Iron Mountains, though those memories were from long ago. On the other... if the Southlands considered themselves so safe as to lose their warrior ways, it meant he and his were doing their duty well. A double-edged sword, to be sure.

"And you, Lady Woodmere. I assume you are here to be my bride. Unless you are simply stepping in for a social call?"

 

[haremfaery]

A half-day . . . The mountain already loomed like a thundercloud taking up the view.

Katherine's anxiety grew as the miles slipped by. This had been her choice, she reminded herself. She imagined her sister making this ride and decided she would not indulge in more tears. Her sister was safe at home that was all that mattered.

She tucked the lap robe around her legs and buried her ice-cold hands in its folds. At least she had chosen her own fate. Her husband had barely been laid to rest before the noblemen were vying for the king's ear to gain the demesne of Woodmere. that they would gain her bed as well, was sauce to the pudding. She had put off the king'd decision by pleading that she might be with child, but that was not to be. Now she was going to a new life, a new husband, in a realm she knew nothing about.

Katherine sighed and looked out the window at the looming mountain contemplating the rumors she had heard about the Iron Lord. Some said he was an immortal monster, crueler and more frightening than the dark creatures he kept at bay. Some said this monster ate the brides that were sent to him, or sucked their blood. Some said all manner of unspeakable acts were committed on the brides so that they gave birth to half-demon children. Some said he was handsome beyond reckoning and to look on his face would kill a mortal.

Katherine scoffed at the stories told to frighten children. She expected "Iron Lord" was simply a title and that soldiers fought fiercely to gain the throne. When a new lord took the title, he called for a new bride. Or perhaps infighting wasn't necessary. Looking at the forbidding terrain, Katherine expected that this was an easy place to die.

~~~~~​

Katherine took in the bleak hall. It decidedly lacked a woman's touch, which puzzled her because the Iron Lord had a wife or wives. Perhaps the wife of the lord lived elsewhere in the city--if one could call it that. But until now, all of the wives were young, inexperienced, little more than girls. They would not know how to speak to their husband to make the place more habitable. The only thing that made sense to her was that this was more of a garrison than the actual place where the Lord and Lady lived.

Katherine would find out soon enough. She was an experienced Chatelaine. When her mother died, as eldest girl, she stepped into the role at Riverill. It made for an easy transition for becoming Lady Woodmere. Tapestries would bring warmth to the room, unless it was the Iron Lord's goal to keep his guests uncomfortable. It was working for Katherine. She straightened her back and tried not to shiver. She wondered if her new lord's bedchamer was so sparsely appointed.

Katherine tried to keep her face impassive while the ranger made his report. The man made those in the Southlands sound like indolent youths.

As Katherine thought, the Iron Lord was no monster. He was simply rude. His disrespect stung. This was not how she imagined their first meeting. As for his comeliness, she had no idea since he had yet to face her. Perhaps his face was deformed and that is why he hadn't turned.

"And you, Lady Woodmere. I assume you are here to be my bride. Unless you are simply stepping in for a social call?"

Katherine dropped into a curtsy and held it as she looked up at his broad back. She refused to allow this discourteous man to intimidate her. He may be a fearsome warrior, but he was to be her husband. Was this truly the way he wished to begin their relationship? She wondered once again what had happened to the many wives over the decades who had been sent to the Iron Mountains.

"Yes, my lord, I am your bride sent by the king at your request. I would hope that had this been a social visit I would be greeted with more hospitality." She spoke in a clear even voice. She was not a woman to be seen and not heard. This was as close to disrespect that she would come in front of the lord's retainers. However, she planned a lesson in manners in the very near future. Power did not mean one had a license for rudeness. There was no excuse for it.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

"Yes, my lord, I am your bride sent by the king at your request. I would hope that had this been a social visit I would be greeted with more hospitality."

It was the iron in her voice and will, hidden beneath court pleasentries, that caught Asmund's attention, and made him raise his head from his reports to stare at the wall in front of him in silent wonder. He had expected some other quivering youth, widower though she may have been, who would shrivel at the very mention of his name and cave at his every glance. Instead, he had been sent a bride with a fire in her breast, or who was at least well versed in pretending to. Either would be a refreshing change over the last few who had been sent to him, always ready to please for fear of whatever ridiculous story the Southlands had cooked up that century.

He turned to the Lady Woodmere then, steel grey eyes flickering over her, taking in details and filing them away for consideration. Her hair reminded him a little of the warmth of summer in the Southlands, a memory he barely recalled it was so long ago, while her eyes conjured images of cloudless skies and the endless ocean he had seen only once. His gaze swept over her attire, assessing it for usefulness in the coming winter months, and whether he would have to ensure more suitable replacements were made. He could see her settled into a curtsy, poised and elegant, and for a moment his anger flared again, at the foppish and useless niceties the nobles played at. Once again he calmed it, reminding himself of the positive sign it was as to his success over the many years. Even if it was not much appreciated when his men were hard pressed and weary from fighting against some barbarian warlord's horde, and Asmund knew no help would come even if he called.

"Commanders, ranger, you are dismissed. Allow me some time alone with the Lady Woodmere."

All present in the room gave a salute, then within minutes it was only the Iron Lord, his bride, and an empty, soulless room. Asmund was silent a moment longer after the heavy doors were closed shut once more, before he bowed. Somewhat stiffly, the lord noted wryly, he was far too out of practice at this farce of a game.

"Hospitality is not given much time this far north, my lady. There is little use for it, when those who come knocking are out for you blood more often than not. Lord Asmund Ironguard, at your... service... I suppose. Welcome to my home, such as it is." Asmund gestured to the hall surrounding him, pausing a moment to allow her to take it in, if she hadn't already. His eyes flickered around the woman before him, looking for traces of others. Even the lowliest of his brides, in ages past, had brought with her attendants and a dowry. He didn't expect the latter, not from a widower, but the former he did. All Southland nobles seem to thrive with more people about them. Then again, even he knew a lady needed servants, to order about and help with tasks, if nothing else. Seeing none evident, the Iron Lord frowned thoughtfully. "Do you require attendants? What is the phrase the Southlands use for such... a lady-in-waiting?"

 

[haremfaery]

Katherine stood after the Iron Lord, Asmund--she rolled his name around in her head. An old name. A name long out of fashion in the Southlands.

She kept a bland expression at his awkward bow, but inwardly smiled, perhaps he had some manners after all. She stood gracefully. She had not missed his appraising look. She hoped he looked on her at least as he might a fine steed and not as a new cow in his herd.

"Do you require attendants? What is the phrase the Southlands use for such... a lady-in-waiting?"

Katherine blinked. The thought had never occurred to her, or anyone else, that she should bring any of her ladies with her to the Iron Mountains. Somehow, she had thought it was not permitted. Besides, she would not make anyone join her in this exile.

"My lord, I have brought no retainers, nor ladies with me. I had assumed my lord would have ladies of his choosing in his court to attend me. I have, however, brought wagons with wine from Woodmere and other foodstuffs, some perishable, to be served at our wedding feast--fruits, nuts, and delicacies from the Southlands that I expect are hardly seen in these parts. I thought they might please you. The wines of Woodmere are well known in the south." She paused.

"I have brought several fine horses and falcons, silver serving pieces, cutlery, and goblets, and a few other household and personal items. It is not much of a dowry, I know . . ." She had insisted on taking some of her Riverill family items that she brought with her to her marriage with Lord Woodmere. Much of it she had given back to her father for her sister's dowry when she came of a more appropriate marriageable age. But she wanted some memories of her past life in the Southlands with her as she began her new life in this dark dreary place. She also had some marriage gifts for her new husband, although she expected the silver and gold eating dagger with the carnelian in the pommel would be far too ostentatious for him.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

Asmund's mouth curled into a grimace at the word "court". His hadn't held court in centuries. He held command of a military force, the best in the known world if he was being prideful. But his court consisted of little more than himself and the two advisors he regularly kept employed, always replacing them when they passed of old age. He found little use for their advice, so little he dealt with the Southlands, but on occasion they had been invaluable. So he kept them around, even if he ignored them most of the time.

"In truth, Lady Woodmere, I hadn't expected a dowry at all. Whatever you've brought with you will certainly be of use, I'm sure." The Iron Lord paused, lost in thought. While he could certainly continue to dance around, he found he was quickly growing bored of this... game of niceties. He still had the reports to go over, after all. His tone grew more brisk, sounding almost as if he were rattling off a report himself. "On the matter of your attendants... I'm afraid I have little knowledge of what you'd require in one. The closest I have to lesser nobility are my commanders... perhaps it would be best to have them bring their daughters before you, and you may select one or two that suit your needs.

"Furthermore, the Feast hall,", at this Asmund, gestured towards his right, to a door that led into the mentioned room, "-while it sees frequent enough use, is ill prepared for a wedding feast. I shall leave the matter in your hands, and see that a suitable stipend be afforded to you. While we may not have all the fine goods of the south, I'm sure among the cities shops you'll find things you judge as suitable for the occasion."

Asmund paused again, frowning slightly. He wondered idly if he was perhaps being to quick to heap tasks upon his bride. He glanced at her questioningly, eyes searching for hints of stress or unhappiness. A happy woman was a pleasant woman, or at least one that wasn't actively attempting to make his life more difficult. He had learned that some centuries ago, but had never mastered the art of keeping a woman happy. He started talking again, though his voice sounded even to him a bit strained, so out of practice he was at not rattling off things like they were military commands.

"Perhaps I am moving a bit fast. Do you have questions of me, Lady Woodmere?"

 

[haremfaery]

It seemed that the Iron Lord wished to be anywhere but here. Why call for a wife if he had no time for her? This man puzzled Katherine greatly.

"A daughter of one of your commanders would be a great help. Having someone who can teach me your customs is important." And someone to fill her in on the castle gossip would be even better. She had much to learn about her new people and her husband-to-be.

"My lord, if I may ask, when exactly is our wedding to be?" It was not as if she were in any hurry to meet him at the altar, but knowing her wedding day would help her make plans. "How many will be in attendance?" At least now she had tasks to keep her busy. She was not sure why, but she was determined to show him that she a woman of some intelligence.

"You are not moving too fast, my lord. If some servant could give me a tour of the castle, I need to speak to the cooks, and also I would like to begin unpacking. It is clear my lord is very busy. I shan't keep you from your," she indicated the table piled with papers and maps, "work. May I join my lord later for supper? By then I may have more questions."

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

"My lord, if I may ask, when exactly is our wedding to be?"

The question of the wedding, and more importantly, when it would be held caused Asmund to fall into thought again. If it were earlier in the year, as he'd originally hoped, then a southern wedding would have been easy to accomplish. As it stood, winter was coming too soon for the often times lengthy preparations that accompanied such a ceremony. Just bringing up a person of suitable status of officiate would be next to impossible. Still, it wouldn't be proper to put off the wedding till spring either, at least over the necessity of some ceremony. That only left one viable option, though he was uncertain how the Lady Woodmere would take it. Asmund's eyes swept over her clothing again, cataloging its deficiencies so that he could have more suitable prepared.

"May I join my lord later for supper? By then I may have more questions."


"Yes, yes of course. I'll send for someone to escort you as well as help with your things, should you need it. As for the wedding... the Southland's ceremony shall have to wait till spring, at the earliest. Not that many will be in attendance, there's few who would travel this far north, even if I were to invite them, but none would do so in the dead of winter. Until then, an older tradition will suffice, at least for the winter months. I'll have suitable attire prepared for a short journey... do you have a dagger that could be used?"

As he spoke, Asmund strode towards the main doors, pulling them open enough to call quietly for one of his commanders, to whom he quickly relayed his instructions. Those that had unmarried daughters were to see that they were presentable and in attendance for supper that evening, for the Lady Woodmere's inspection and selection as an attendant. Heavy winter clothing was needed as well for the Lady, they'd be making a short trek up the mountain slope. He scooped up one of the junior officers as well, gesturing him inside and speaking to him quietly.

"See to Lady Woodmere's needs. Escort her through the castle, ensure that her questions are answered as she asks them, and retrieve whatever she desires." Asmund turned back to Katherine, eyes questioning. "Is this acceptable, my Lady?"

 

[haremfaery]

Again, Katherine was not sure what she expected when she asked the Iron Lord her questions. A more definitive and immediate answer? A dismissal for bothering him with trivialities? He always paused before answering as if conversation was strange to him.

"My lord, I did bring warm clothes with me. I shall have someone look at them and see if they will be sufficient for a winter here."

She had not even thought their wedding would be one attended by any from the south. She expected some small service in the keep's chapel presided over by a priest. "I ... yes, of course I have a dagger." She would give him the dagger at dinner that she had brought for him as a wedding gift and see if it was acceptable. She could not imagine what sort of marriage ceremoney required a dagger. She would ask him more of this "older tradition" at dinner.

"See to Lady Woodmere's needs. Escort her through the castle, ensure that her questions are answered as she asks them, and retrieve whatever she desires." Asmund turned back to Katherine, eyes questioning. "Is this acceptable, my Lady?"

"Most acceptable, my lord." She dropped him a graceful curtsy.

~~~~

Katherine followed the junior officer, one Sergeant Coppersmith as he took her on a tour.

She discovered that the cleaning of the castle was a thing of punishment for the soldiers which explained a lot. That would be one of the first things she would have to recify.

She asked about the Iron Lord. What he was like? Did he have a previous wife? Mistresses? Children? What made him angry? Did he ever laugh?

Answers to those questions were vague or noth forthcoming at all. The sergeant was as stingy in his speech as his lord.

The tour finished in her room. She saw that her trunks and boxes had all been delivered. She asked for a brazier for her room. She asked if there was a bath house or if she could have a tub brought up for her bathe after her long trip.

"I'll see what someone can do so you can wash up."

~~~~​

Sometime later a rather smallish tub was brought up with a succession of buckets of hot water to fill it. It wasn't big enough for a proper bath, but it would do for not.

Katherine bathed and changed for dinner. As the Iron Lord said, someone knocked and brought her down to the dining hall. She wore a blue dress that brought out the color of her eyes and a shawl to keep away the chill.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

The Iron Lord's day consisted mainly of the weekly inspection, a small award ceremony, and countless reports and written orders being ferried back and forth from his table to his officers and back again. Asmund barely bothered to take the time to rest in between each, allowing himself only a few moments here and there for a small breather before launching himself into the next set of tasks to be done. Somewhere, in all his work, he found the time to quietly inquire as to the whereabouts and condition of his bride. He received a bland report, she'd toured the private rooms of the castle, asked a few questions, and seen to her things mostly. He accepted the news quietly before waving the man away and setting his thoughts back to the task at hand.

~~~~

Hours later, with the sun setting in its quiet way, Asmund found himself in the dining hall, a small stack of reports that still needed his attention taking up the space before him. All around sat his senior staff(some engaged in similar activities as their lord), the daughters of some seated next to them. To the Iron Lord's left a seat was reserved, kept clear for the Lady Woodmere to sit when she arrived. His head rose at the sound of the doors opening, all present except for one exception.

Asmund's eyes fixed on his bride, the blue of her dress clashing noticeably with the dour, colorless state of her surroundings. That flashing memory of a cloudless sky seen so long ago visited his thoughts once again, but it was banished just as quickly. Now was not the time for reminiscing on ancient times long passed. Asmund rose, bowing stiffly to the lady as she approached.

"A pleasure, my lady. I hope you've found the castle to your liking, such as it is. My senior staff, and those daughters found of suitable age to be candidates for your selection." Asmund paused again, internally frowning. He dredged up some old memory, that it was a courtesy to compliment a lady on her appearance, particularly when one was courting her, even if their courtship was ceremonial at best. "If... If I may say so, your dress becomes you, Lady Woodmere."

 

[haremfaery]

Katherine curtsied in response to her lord's bow. No other women were present except the eligible daughters of the commanders. The girls looked, shy and uncomfortable; the men looked busy and eager for this to be over.

"If... If I may say so, your dress becomes you, Lady Woodmere."

Katherine blinked. The compliment seemed out of character and forced. She must truly be a disappointment to him. Not young, nor a virgin, and since she had not conceived with her first husband, she was likely barren as well. She felt her cheeks grow hot as everyone looked at her, the frivolous woman from the south who didn't even have proper clothes to keep warm in the Autumn chill.

"Thank you. My lord is kind to say so." She made her way to her seat at the table, head held high. She would act the high lady she was to be even if she didn't feel like one. She had not planned on making an entrance. It seemed Ironguard did by not having her escorted to dinner sooner. So be it. Now his commanders had gotten a good look at her.

She reached into the sleeve of her gown and removed the long narrow box that contained the dagger she had brought with her as a wedding gift. She knew now that it was far too ostentatious for this cold and practical man who would be her husband. At least it was well balanced and sharp, a perfect eating dagger. Also in the box was a copper coin. It was generally thought to be bad luck to give a knife as a gift. The coin was for the receiver to give back as a token payment so as not to sever good relations.

She placed the box between them. "This was meant to be a wedding gift, but after our earlier conversation, I thought I should give it to you now to see if it will suffice for the wedding ceremony. "

The box was wrapped in a scrap of fine fabric printed with blue irises and tied with a blue ribbon the color of Katherine's eyes--her signature color, it seemed. In the south, flowers had meanings. Irises stood for faith, wisdom, cherished friendship, and hope. All things she felt were important for a newly married couple.

Katherine was known in the Southlands for her poise and maturity, but sitting here among these hard, dour men, she felt like a child again, unsure and nervous. Judged and found wanting.

She was relieved when the doors opened and steaming bowls of soup were placed before everyone. It gave her something to focus on beyond her self doubts.